The Collinsport Chronicles XXXVIII:Intruder from the sea
by Maryland Rose
Summary: What lies at the bottom of the ocean and is now seeking Collinsport?
1. Chapter 1

Adam, Quentin and Sebastian have been restored, Hallie had her baby, Eliot, and won her battle with Zoya and sacrificed to Ra. The gypsy tribe recovered Petofi's hands. Peter, Iris' nephew keeps having visions of an enchanged ballroom. Derek and Patterson are going to dive for the treasure of the Russian ship. Richard Zimmerman, in his new body changed his name to Howard, and he and Frances Jackson are not together. Urien is being haunted in his dreams by Robert Loomis.

* * *

INTRUDER FROM THE SEA

Chapter 1

"You know the rules of the food pantry" Vicky told Barnabas as he wiped his mouth. "You get fed, you pay it in labor. There is a whole truck of donated food out there. You could unload it."

Barnabas smiled. It was only fair. He took box after box of cans and put them on the floor. "Do I put them on the shelves, too?"

"Someone else is coming for that. You just saved him then worst of it."

"Glad I could be of help. Seems that the need is greater than I imagined."

"Yes. people do not like to admit that they are in need. They never come from the door, they came from the back which opens to the church. "

"Could you have ever imagined you working together with a Trask on anything? Yet, here you are."

"Could you have ever imagined your having the sheriff as a lover? In 1967, 68 you'd think I was crazy if I told you of it. And yet here you are."

"yes, life takes some funny turns. At least I am glad that you are doing all right."

"Yes. I am at last a grown woman, not a child looking for approval. Say what you will of Megan, I will always be grateful to her for teaching me how to grow up."

"I have much to be grateful to her to... even thought the advice she gave to George still grates me.."

"What did she tell George?"

"George was considering whether he could be... like me, so that we could stay always together. Megan told him that I have an uncanny ability to get into trouble, and to attract people who meant to kill me, That she thought that if George became what I am, he'd end up lonely, because I would have managed to get myself killed one way or the other..."

"Well..." Vicky hesitated.

"I take it that you agree."

"Tell me, do you think that I am a jinx for men? First Burke, then Peter, and now Phillip. It is not safe to be in a relationship with me..."

"It is not true."

"It is... I am afraid that some things we cannot get rid off. you are a trouble magnet, and I am bad luck for any man who falls in love with me. That's the way it is."

* * *

Frances threw the feed and watched the chickens gobble it hungrily.

Howard grinned at her. "Are you sure that you are going to like it here?"

"Sure, why not?"

"I am not a dream prince." he said. "I have seen too much and endured too much. I am hard, and moody, and I get lost in my thoughts, of which you are not a part. I wonder if I am fit to marry anyone. And you are too nice a lady to be saddled with somebody like me."

"Come on, it is not so bad."

"It is. I got too many bad memories."

"I know that you do."

"No, you don't. You can try to imagine, but you cannot know. And it is part of me. I wish it was not. I wish that I could stop thinking about it, but it is not something that I can choose. I wonder if raising chickens in the middle of nowhere is for me. Yet what else can I do? I will try it, but I cannot ask you to try it, too."

"Then don't ask. But I will stay with you. For a while, at least. Until you prove to me that it really can't work."

* * *

"Why didn't you let me know?" Carolyn asked. "Why did you let me think that you had abandoned me again?"

Adam looked sheepish. "I was ashamed to admit what a mess I had gotten myself into. I know that I had Julia Hoffman for help, or at least a referral. but I did not want to do it. I was stubborn and stupid. And then I heard of something providing a quick fix and I fell for it.

"Oh, Adam, Adam.." Carolyn shook her head. "What am I going to do with you?"

"You could kick me out of your life." Adam said humbly "and it would be no more than I deserved."

"But how could you have believed in that? There is no such thing as a quick fix. No such thing as a free lunch."

"I wanted to believe there was. Because I did not want to owe anything to Barnabas and Julia. And now I owe him. And I owe Quentin and Sebastian, and that Indian shaman."

Carolyn caressed Adam's hair. "Adam you are such a child, at times."

"I know I am." Adam made a face. "I never had a chance to be a proper child. I grew up by fits and starts and I am still paying for it."

"I know, Adam, but still..."

"If I am not too proud to got to Julia for help, and I do as she says, will you forgive me?"

Adam looked so sad, so contrite, that Carolyn felt her resole melt. Adam could be so childish and so touching, too...

"Adam, Adam.." she repeated "you are such a child."

* * *

"Are you going back?" Quentin asked Sebastian.

"Yes. There is nothing for me here."

Quentin did not like it. He had wanted to do something for Sebastian, some way of making it up to him for what he had put him through. bur there was no way that he could. He had little money now. The return trip to Collinsport had eaten away to his meager capital, and while Angelique would be willing to help, he did not know how to contact her. And he was sure that Sebastian would no accept anything from her... He had talked about it with Barnabas, who confessed his inability to help. There was no way that they could return Roxanne to Sebastian, ever.

"I would not like it to end like this." Quentin said.

"How would you like it to end?' Sebastian said with irony.

"I'd like to make it up to you the trouble I got you in."

"Forget it. That's what I am going to do. I am going to forget all of you."

"You don't like us, then?"

"Why should I like you?"

"I had nothing to do with what happened to Roxanne."

'No, you did not." Sebastian shrugged. "But this town has little in the way of good memories for me."

Sebastian was right. He had little offered to him in Collinsport. Little future whatsoever for him in it.

As it was with himself now. He had to leave Collinsport, go someplace where his reputation had not preceded him and make a new life for himself.

Adam had given him the future. It was up to him what to make of it.

"Well, all I can do is wish you luck, them/ Will you accept that?"

"Don't see any harm in it."

"I promised to pay you when we started. I intend to, one way or the other. How much do I owe you?"

Sebastian named a figure. Not as high as Quentin had feared.

"That much?"

'Yes. Not a penny more, not a penny less."

Quentin wrote the check. He could cover it, though barely. He might have to go to the food pantry and ask Vicky for help for a while. But he owed that much to Sebastian.

* * *

The wharf was busy. The netted fish were thrown on it, proudly displayed under then sun, which made the shine like jewels. The air stank, but no one minded the stink. It was good. It meant a good catch, and plenty of work at the cannery.

They had also brought in clams, and the tourists looked at them with fascination, as if wondering what kind of creatures end up in clam chowders. And lobsters too, waving helplessly their claws.

Derek drank all this with his eyes, all the while paying attention to his own salvage operation. He had one regret. He should be diving himself, instead of standing there, listening to Patterson's comments. Patterson was too old, too fat, too lazy, and too malicious for him. And he came here only to make sure that Derek did not cheat him out of his share.

Derek did not like Patterson at all. If it was up to him, he would not be in it. But he had needed Patterson's money and he could not talk Sheriff Brant into investing. Brant still believed that the treasure hunt was a scam, and while he could not care less what happened to Patterson, he did not want any part of it himself.

It was such a beautiful day. No more rain, after so many days in which all you could see was gray skies, bleak bare trees against the sky and black birds on top of the trees. Suddenly you remembered that there were colors besides gray in this world. He should not let Patterson's snide comments ruin this day for him.'

He thought, guiltily, as he always did when the weather was this glorious, of Barnabas and Megan. They did not share of this glory in the sun. For them it would be deadly, as once it had been for him. And he wondered why it had been him and not them.

* * *

Hallie slept contentedly. Zoya had been claimed by Ra and now she held her heart in bondage. No one was to contest her. No one suspected what she really was. And she had a child to offer to Ra. Eliot Collins who was not only her son, but Laura's grandchild and great-great-grandchild. Eliot Collins who would become a phoenix when she offered him as a sacrifice.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The water weighted on Derek. It had been so long that he had done any swimming that he had forgot how it felt to have that kind of weight over his head, how his movements slowed, and how he could feel slightly dazed by it all.

And how strange things looked down there. Not that the fish were strange, he had seen them before, in the day's catch. But here they moved, and water filtered their shapes and colors. It was not the same as seeing them safely in aquariums.

He kicked his fins and was surprised as to how fast he could advance. It was almost like a dream. Weightless, slow... it was not a bit unlike what he felt before, when he floated as mist, when he could still do it.

He could not anymore. He could not fly, and in a way it was a pity. He remembered the acrobatics he had engaged in as a bat, and he regretted losing that. But you can't have everything.

He went deeper into the water, the bottom coming a bit closer to him. He wondered how it would be, later on, if he had to go in real deep. The pressure was not a wholly pleasant sensation and he was out of training with it. Yet, if he were to spot the treasure all by himself... to see Patterson's face when he brought it up...

There was this big shadow under him. He had thought at first that it was a rock. But it _moved_.

And it was big.

He began to swim away, as fast as he could. A shark, he thought. Big White. Just like in the movies. And may look appetizing enough. He remembered to swim in steady strokes, not blindly in panic. Must not seem a wounded fish...

He reached the shore, feeling the huge mouth opening behind him. He got out of the water, raced on the firm ground, not stopping to take off his air mask.

"Found anything?" Patterson asked mockingly.

"There's a shark there."

Patterson guffawed. "Of course, you saw a big guppy and panicked."

"I saw it."

"And what did it ,look like? Big, with thousands of teeth, and a sing around its neck that said 'Jaws III'?"

"I tell you that I saw it. We have to tell the sheriff about it!"

"And what do you expect that pansy to do? Hit it with his purse?"

Derek looked at Patterson with hatred. Why had he taken this creeps' money?"

Patterson kept laughing behind him as he walked into George's office. He did not care. If there was shark, it was his duty to let the authorities know, so that they could discourage any swimming.

George listened to him with interest, but now wholly convinced.

"Are you sure it was a shark? It is easy to make a mistake."

George tried not to sound too skeptical. If Derek said that the he had seen something, then there was something out there. Whether or not it was truly a shark, specially of the man-eating kind (and very few sharks were man eaters) was a different question.

"I did not see it clearly. I saw a shadow. A big shadow under me. I just got out of there fast."

Well, you could understand that Derek was not in the mood to conduct a study of Marine Biology at that moment. But the question remained. Was it a shark at all? It could be a large clump of seaweed. Or even a large school of fish. Or even a Great White., looking for its usual diet of seals, and unable to tell them from divers in black suits.

Derek was calm now. He had said what he had seen, and it was up to George to take action. Maybe he had been in a bit of a hurry to call it a shark. But even so, he had done the right thing.

"Any moment now people are going to start swimming." George said. "as soon as the temperature goes up- a bit. "But by then the shark might have gone away. As for your expedition, do you have shark cages?"

"Yes. Jeff Thompson insisted that we bring them."

"That was smart. Use them. Luckily we don't have a seal colony nearby, or I'd be rather worried. I will keep a watch. And I will tell you what develops."

"Thank you."

* * *

"Can you help me so that I do not dream so much of the old man?" Urien asked Julia.

"You want to know if I can give you something that can make the dreams go away?"

'Yes. I don't want to have them again. Have you any idea of what it is like?"

"I do."

"Then you know what to take to stop it."

"Some pills, you mean?"

'Yes. you must know of something"

"There are several things that I could give you, but I don't think that it would be too smart to let you have them."

"Why not?"

"Among other things, you could become dependent on them."

"Only for a few nights."

Julia shook her head "No, if you are dreaming, there is a reason. Maybe you do need to dream of him."

"Why should I need that? If there is something I don't need it is to dream of him."

"He represents something that you don't want to face. You are trying to deny something, to lie to yourself.. It will not work. There is some part of you that knows the truth and won't let you forget it."

"But what could that be?"

"Something related to your former life in the streets."

"That part of my life is over and done for!"

"Yes, it is. And it is not. For as long as you can remember it is not over. It has left scars, and trying to deny them will make things worse. You just have to deal with it."

"I don't want to deal with it! I don't have to. Barnabas told me that it is only an aftereffect of what that hand did to me."

"That is very much possible. In which case it should wear off by itself."

'Only, it isn't wearing off."

"Then, if it is not wearing off, it might well be that by giving you drugs I am kaing it worse."

"Damn it!" Urien said without thinking.

"I can't give you drugs."

"What do you think I am? A junkie?"

"You are somebody who has been through a lot already and who does not need more complications."

* * *

A dark mass drifted through the sea. It was alive. It could think, sort of. It was mostly instincts with it, and yet, at moments...

At moments it was as if some sort of fog had cleared up, as if his eyes could see again.

It had not been always like this. It was not a thought, it was an awareness. There was something in the waters that awoke something..., some yearning, something that was not instinctive. It was a sensation of strangeness. And of somehow not being where he should be.

The small fishes darted in front of it. To small to be a threat. Too small even for a satisfying meal, each. But several... He gobbled them quickly, and for all they satisfied his hunger, they did not felt like the right food for him...

It was not what he was hungry for...

* * *

Peter rubbed the window pane. It was the right kind of weather for this.

The sun diffused its light through the pane. And there at the center there was more brightness...

There were five couples, dancing a slow waltz. The women wore gowns trailing over the floors, yet not truly touching it. And the men had white uniforms with shiny silver buttons. They had jewels too. Silver and diamonds. Icy cold jewelry, and it caught the light that filtered through silvery cobwebs.

He put his hand to touch it. So close...

And as he did, the scene vanished.

But a single cobweb strand remained in his hand.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"So the shark scare came to nothing?" Barnabas commented.

"Probably it was nothing in the first place. A large clump of seaweed or some such. And Derek sees it, is not very sure as to what it is, thinks the worst and comes running to me. But it was smart. Better to look like a fool than to disregard danger and be one. But no, it was not 'Jaws III'"

"I am glad that you did not have to battle the Chamber of Commerce to close the beaches."

"So am I."

* * *

Yolanda watched Zoya as she writhed in the flames.

'You thought that you could beat her, didn't you?" She asked mockingly "only it did not work. If you had done as I asked you might have had a chance. I know her weaknesses and you did not. I know what she fears most of all."

Zoya was not paying attention to the words. All her concentration had gone to the pain that she was enduring. it had been days, weeks maybe, since Hallie had decreed the punishment for her and it had not ended yet. Hallie meant her salamanders brook no defiance to her. Zoya was too defiant and must be broken.

Yolanda was not sure of how much she would dare, if this one decided to help. Nevertheless she knew about Laura and that she had been defeated by her own salamanders. Why should it not be the same now?

She needed allies. And who better than Zoya? She would have to be careful. Much more careful than she had been when she tried to destroy Angelique. She had made so many mistakes there, and yet come close to victory, too. Maybe this time, if she was careful, her luck would hold.

Zoya's eyes seemed to linger on her. Maybe here was somebody who could help her, somebody that she could rely on.

* * *

"There were no more sightings." George told Derek "Nothing resembling a shark. And you can be sure that the fishermen would have seen it."

"I know that. I think that I panicked when I was down there. it had been a while that I had gone swimming that deep... I feel like a fool."

"Better to look like a fool than be one. I appreciate your coming to me, and if there had been something, as it might, it would have done a lot of good."

"Thanks, you are too kind." he shook his head. "you should have heard what Patterson called me."

George growled. "I told you before, I don't want to know anything about Patterson. You handle your problems with him. Come to me only if he gets violent and I have to lock him up for assault or carrying a firearm, or something like that. Anything else, you just get your revenge by ripping him off."

"I am not going to rip him off. There is treasure down there."

"As you wish." George said, amicably "I'll believe it when I see it."

* * *

Little Phillip kicked the sand with determination.

Vicky watched him, a bit worried. Was it wise to let him so close to the water? Yet there was little danger in letting him play with that mysterious white foam on top of the sand. She just had to keep an eye on him.

It was good to get an hour off for the beach. She was too busy now, with her students, and with the pantry ( thought her idea of putting the recipients to work was paying off), She needed time for herself and little Phillip too.

When it was warmer she and Phillip would put on bathing suits and romp on the advancing waves. Then she would have to make arrangements with other mothers to take turns watching the kids and bathing.

The water gleamed under the sun and it seemed to have a narcotic effect on her.

It did not on Phillip. He kept trying to cache the foam in his hands, only to watch it disappear between his fingers.

The water was clear, like a green glass, except a the places where the waves broke

Phillip pointed at something far away. Something dark in the water.

She looked at it... it was like a log, or seaweed, drifting towards shore.

Only it was not so much like seaweed, more like a porpoise... a large fin!

She remembered the move "Jaws" that Willie had loaned her...

But that was only am movie. As long as he stayed in dry land she was safe. Sharks did not get out of the water and chase people on the beaches...

The shape moved closer to shore. Vicky looked away for a moment, towards Phillip, who was knocking on a shell.

When she looked a gain a green, scaly arm was coming out of the sea...

Vicky had time to note that there was a hand with five fingers, and that its color war an iridescent green before she grabbed Phillip and ran.

She got out of the beach and kept running.

She did not see the car that hit her...

* * *

"You are not going to marry Adam" Roger said with dismay.

"I am going to marry him, Uncle."

"He'll just dump you again. Just as he did before."

"He learned his lesson. And this time it was not his fault."

"Why him, Carolyn? What's so important about him? It know that you like to bring home unsuitable men, like Buzz, or Burke Devlin. But have you got to marry them?"

'Uncle Roger, we are adults, the both of us. It has nothing to do with what we did when we were young and foolish."

"We don't even know who his parents are!"

"Let's not start this argument again, please."

"Why not? Who are his parents? has he got any living relatives at all? Why does he not introduce them to us? Is he ashamed of them? Maybe there is insanity in the family. Or maybe they are criminals."

"I don't care what family he comes from,:

"But I do. And you should."

"Uncle" Carolyn was firm "we have gone over this before. And nothing is going to change. You better learn to accept Adam."

"I won't"

"Or I'll send Edmund away to school."

Roger stared at her. "You wouldn't"

"I am seriously considering it."

"He's making you do it, isn't he?"

"If I do, it will be my decision. Please, Uncle, it would mean much to me if you were to accept Adam as part of the family."

Roger turned her back to her and left.

* * *

"She was too fast!" the boy protested. "She ran into the road! I did not think she would. She just ran in front of the car before I could stop."

George shook his head. "You were too drunk to know anything."

"I was not!"

"The lab report says you were. The alcohol level is above the legal limit. You were loaded."

"But I tell you! Nothing would have happened if she had not ran in front of the car! It was as if she was running from something or someone!"

"Like a pink elephant, maybe?"

"You got to believe me! She was running and would not stop!"

"Not good enough. You are going to be charged with reckless driving, and hope that she does not die of it."

"Why won't you believe me?"

"Because you were drunk."

* * *

A drunk driver. The irony of it did not escape Barnabas. After surviving his own vampire attacks, Angelique's spells, the hanging noose, and the Leviathans, and everything else, Vicky could die from something as prosaic as a drunk driver. A boy who had been told that drinking and driving do not mix, but who thought that he knew better.

He saw Kenneth coming out. "How is she?" he asked, anxiously.

"She is stable."

"When will she regain consciousness?"

"I cannot tell you yet. But it may not take long."

"What about the child?"

"He's in good condition. She cushioned the blow for him. We should be able to release him."

"That is good."

"What was it, a drunk driver?"

"Loaded to the eyeballs, the way George told me. A kid who wanted to find out how much beer he could hold. I hope that the judge throws the book at him."

"You think?"

"Well, with M.A.D.D. putting pressure, it probably won't be a light sentence. A few years back, it might have meant just a slap on the wrist and he would get bombed again, and run somebody else again, until he got into a real bad accident that killed him. It was disgraceful. And juries refused to convict. They seemed to think more important to protect their own right to get smashed at parties than their right not to have to scrape their own children from the pavement."

"George is going to give a lecture at the High School about the dangers of driving while drunk."


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

"Driving while drunk is not a stunt. It is not a joke." George told the students. "It is a crime. Accidents do happen. But to deliberately provoke one is criminal. It show complete disregard of other people. It comes close to being deliberate murder. And I believe that the D.A. is tempted to level the steepest charges against your classmate in the matter of Mrs. Todd and her child. That's how serious it is."

One of the students snickered.

"You, on the back. Yes, you." George pointed at him. "Stand up."

The boy did so with bad grace.

"You think that you know better. Is that true?"

"Well..." the boy's insolence did not abate.

"You think that nothing can happen to you. That you are too smart to be caught. You think that a couple of beers never hurt anyone. That you know your limit."

"And what if I do?"

"You are not the only one who believes that. Most find how wrong they are too late. Like your friend now in custody. He's now begging us to believe that Mrs. Todd ran into his car, and that he did nothing to deserve what is happening to him. You have to give him credit for trying. Do you want to see the cell that he is occupying now?

The boy shrugged.

"You can do a lot of things for fun. You can be as gross and as disgusting as you like, if that is what you enjoy. You can pursue worthwhile goals, or worthless ones. Or you can just hang around. That is not my concern. But the moment you get into a car, you don't touch the stuff. and the first one that I catch spends the night in jail, and the parents won't be able to retrieve him until the next morning."

"Sheriff!" the teacher intervened. "there is no need."

"Pardon me, Ms. Pruitt, but I believe there is. I want to cure them of treating it as a joke. and if what I do keeps me from having to scrape them off the pavement, then it is worth it."

* * *

Derek looked at the water with apprehension. well, maybe it had been a false alarm. Some seaweed or such. But still he did not feel happy swimming in there.

Actually, he did not have to swim at all. He had hired the divers so that he did not have to do the work. But he wanted to. so he should stop the melodramatics and concentrate on what he was here for.

He went deeper into the water. The pressure did not bother him so much now. He looked down at the bottom. He was going to try to get real close this time. There were some big rock down there. It looked worth exploring.

He dove down to the rocks. It was good. he could see them more clearly as he got closer, make up details that had been lost among the swaying seaweed.

It was quite deep. Deeper than he had gotten before. The pressure above his head increased. He looked up. the sun filtered through the water and reached him as diffuse light, its power lost in the surrounding water.

The rocks were quite close now. He had to be careful there. The jagged edge of the rocks could cut not only his suit but himself. And the seashells were even sharper.

He was close to the bottom. He put out a foot in it and tried to stand, to walk on it. It would not work, not as well as lying horizontal and kicking his feet.

He examined the rocks. It took time as they were full of crevices which showed deceptive shapes at their other end. And the barnacles and other shellfish had accumulated in profusion there.

He found a wood board, rotten and covered with barnacles, Maybe that was it, maybe it was a board that had come from the sunken ship that he was looking for.

There was nothing else around. He looked at the rocks again, but apart from the board, there was nothing that betrayed the presence of a ship. Well, he would be back. Maybe next time he'd find more.

For a moment he had the sensation of being watched. Then he shrugged. Who would be doing the watching, anyway?

He kicked the water and began the ascent back to sun and air.

As he went up something in the bottom moved. Something that was covered with mud and broken seashells. It awakened from its sleep and lowly saw the solitary figure go up...up...

For some reason that filled it with a yearning that it did not know how to satisfy. All he knew was that there was something bright up there, that something else was going up... That it should go up, too.. But something pulled it back...

With effort he stood upright on the bottom. It was hard, with the pressure bearing down, but it obeyed some calling, deep inside, and kept its posture.

To stand upright was important... it was what was natural..

The longing would not leave. To leave the water, to stand upright...

The other creature, the one that fled... it was important.

He knew sadness, but could not name it, any more than he could name any emotion he felt. It was just something gnawing inside him. There were questions, but its brain knew nothing of questions, knew not what words meant, it could only barely be aware that there was something there that it could not understand.

It stood there, staring at the sun, wondering, and not knowing such words as 'sun', 'staring', or 'wondering.'.

* * *

"What were you doing in that High School?" Patterson shouted at George as he was leaving. "Looking for action there?"

George forced himself not to react. Let him leave, do not make a scene.

"Found a boyfriend there? That was what you were doing, weren't you? Does the schoolteacher know what you are up to?"

Damn it, why didn't Patterson shut up? Didn't he knew when enough was enough? Maybe he should be arrested for drunk and disorderly... He did not want to, but he did not want Patterson to continue contesting his authority this way.

"Do they know that you are nothing but a faggot?" Patterson shouted across the street "You used to do it with Woodard, didn't you? Bent over for him. And you want one of those boys for your own. Did you come to sample them one by one?"

George crossed the street. "Patterson" he said firmly "that's enough. Go home."

"Don't you give me any orders, you pansy."

"Patterson, you've had too much to drink."

'You shut up, boy. You and your spy who sees sharks where there are none, making me waste time, wasting my money..."

"Patterson" he tried to sound reasonable "It was a basic precaution. You'd not have liked it if there had been a real shark down there and you were not ready for it."

"Listen, you pansy, you don't interfere with me, understand? You don't back Pearce against me. You don't let him steal the Russian jewels from me. And if you do, I'll let everybody know about you."

"Patterson, listen" George grabbed the other man's arm.

"Don't you touch me!"

"Patterson, don't make me arrest you for drunk and disorderly."

"You would never dare."

"Patterson, you'd said your piece. Now go home and go to sleep."

"Sleep with whom?"

"Patterson, if you do not respect me, please respect my uniform."

Patterson made a rude noise with his mouth.

George sighed. He guessed that that was it. He _had_ to arrest Patterson, like it or not. He felt sorry for him, in a way. He had no future, only a past. He had once been the sheriff and now was not, and had nothing to fall back on. He had been a big man once. Now he was only a has-been.

But he could not tolerate such behavior much longer. And this time, it had to be settled.

* * *

"I am going to make it public" George told Barnabas "I have to stop Patterson, and making it public is the only way. I am not going to deny it any longer and I will not allow him to blackmail me for one more cent. I will tell the truth about myself."

"And me."

"There is not need. I do not plan to give them a list of my lovers, and that includes you. If they want to wonder who warms my bed, let them."

"I risk less than you. Julia will not turn me out, the way the voters wall do to you."

"I have been thinking about it. Patterson devoted his life to the job, denying himself for the sake of it, and look what he got for it. I am not going to make his mistake. I will tell everybody what I am and what I do. And if the voters don't like me, well they can get themselves another sheriff. I'll get myself another job. There are other things in life besides being a sheriff and I'd be a fool to center my life around it. Single minded devotion to your job is not a good ideal, I decided."

"I warned you about it."

"Yes. But only now I believe it." George grinned.

"You might as well name me."

"There is no need."

"They already know worse about me."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

"I would not, if it was my choice, hold this press conference "George told the local reporters. "Basically my position is that as long as I provided the taxpayers with honest, fair, and efficient service, I had no need to discuss my off-duty activities, in the measure that they did not affect my delivery of services."

"But you want to tell of it now. Why?"

"Because at the moment it threatens precisely to interfere with my ability to do so. I am talking of blackmail. No, I have not done anything illegal. I have hurt no one. But the threat was made to reveal to the public the extent of my off-duty activities. And there are two ways to handle blackmail: to pay it off, or to make it public oneself what the blackmailer threatens to reveal, thus removing the weapon from his or her hands. A sheriff who is paying blackmail is in no position to enforce the law, you agree. Part of the payment includes, sooner or later, his looking the other way."

"Was that what happened to you?" Jim Pierson asked.

"Yes. I need not elaborate as to who it was who approached me. Suffice it to say that should I give in I would be in their power forever, until you got tired of my corrupt administration and voted someone honest in."

"What was what they blackmailed you with?"

George grinned. "All right. I wonder how many of you know or suspect it. Probably more than I first thought. All right. I am gay. I am a practicing homosexual and have been all my life."

It had an effect. Not so much on the reporters, which by profession have dirty minds, but on his deputies. He realized that he should have let them know beforehand, not drop this on them the way he was doing now.

Then the questions came. Some were quite idiotic. Charitably he answered them politely, not as they deserved. Some were very sensible and he tried to answer them as honestly as he could. he wondered what kind of article they would write afterwards. If they would report the facts, or make them up, as they had done it more than once before.

Eventually they got to the details of his love life. He interrupted them as they began to get prurient.

"I have said on the subject as much as there is a need to say. I did not call you here to bare my soul, but to discourage the threat that a potential blackmailer might have on this town. This done, I feel justified in answering 'no comment' to any further questions."

"Won't you at least tell us whether you have a current lover and who it is?'

They would keep on asking and making perfect nuisances of themselves until they came up with a name. "I do have a lover. He is Barnabas Collins."

* * *

The water had pushed it towards the shore. The water over its head thinned and the water under it grew, and then thinned as the bottom rose up. Soon it would be out, its head in the air...

...just as it had once been.

It rose, alone in the night. No light to show its shape, no pale figures running away, screaming. Figures so familiar and yet so different from itself...

The air was hard to breathe. It hurt its gills. Somehow it understood that the gills must be protected. It rubbed water on them. It then took a mouthful of water and kept it in the pouch behind its tongue. It helped..

And, pulled by something that it was more than instinct, it walked inland. Something was calling for it there.

* * *

"Well, Patterson, you are going out." George said as he opened his cell.

"What, no charges?"

"A fine for disturbing the peace."

Patterson growled.

"Be thankful it is not blackmail."

"Of course not."

"I made it public today. My sexual orientation and the fact that I was being blackmailed. I did not give out your name. They have some idea that it was someone connected to organized crime. I will not disabuse them of it. I hope that you are grateful that I covered up for you as I did."

"You... you..." Patterson spluttered "You did not..."

George found it easier to control his temper now. Patterson had lost the hold he had over him. He was not awed by him anymore. He was sorry to see that his idol had clay feet, but it did not produce a searing sense of loss. Patterson had not aged gracefully, that was all.

"Go back to your treasure hunt, Patterson." he said wearily "and take good care of you money. I am no longer contributing to it."

* * *

No one saw it move across the fields. The cows and sheep lifted their heads, but were not disturbed by it. They had grown accustomed to the smell of the sea and of the fish.

The dogs knew that there was something that they could tear into for food, or which could tear into them. They barked, the one after the other, but as it moved, they seemed to calm down.

It did not seem to notice. it was being pulled by something that it could not name. It had a sense of where it had to go, and it followed that blindly, no knowing what lay ahead.

One dog was loose. It ran towards the intruder, growling, and its teeth bared.

The creature stopped, puzzled at the noise that the charging dog was making.

The dog attacked, tearing into the flesh. The pain made the creature react. It grabbed the dog by the throat, tearing it out with its claws. The blood splattered him and the dog. He threw the dog's body away.

Just as the light outside the house went on had them man came out, looking for the dog.

Something told the creature that it should get away, that it should get back to the sea. It staggered against a telephone pole, leaving a bloody palm imprint on it. then ducked among the tall grasses, scurrying away as fast as it could.

* * *

"Be prepared to answer all kinds of silly questions" George warned Barnabas "there's quite a few of them who think that reading a couple of books qualifies them to become lay psychiatrists, just like Jim Pierson. Try to suffer fools kindly. Not all reporters are like that, but plenty are, and they can be a real pain.

"I handled Oriana. I can handle the local variety."

"Don't try to handle them as you did Oriana."

"Why not?" Barnabas said, amused "the cell has now been fixed, so that no one can escape from it. Wouldn't it be nice for them to say that they were jailed to prevent the from doing their job? I understand that it is a badge of honor for journalists."

"Well, don't go around handing badges to the undeserving. Just be very patient. In the meantime, I will see what I can do to keep the national press out of here. And if they come, how we can put them off then other, er, attractions of the town. And try to keep Urien from saying too much. I don't care to read any exclusive interview that he can give to 'The Advocate, specially the part about keeping your coffin clean."

* * *

"We should try south of the rocks." Derek was saying with animation. "We should divide the area in sectors. That piece of wood must have come from somewhere. And if our luck holds, it was from the sunken ship.

The others divers did not agree on that. They wanted to cast a wider net instead of concentrating on the small area that Derek proposed.

It was a lively discussion but Patterson did not participate in it. He kept thinking of the humiliation of having been held in his own jail. Like a common criminal. And to have that faggot call him a blackmailer, in a superior tone of voice. And asking him to be grateful because he had not exposed him as such.

He wanted revenge. He wanted Brant to hurt, to bleed.. But he knew how impotent he was. He tried to get violent and he would be jailed again, on more serious charges. And Brant would not send him any more money. Now that he had publicly acknowledged his own perversion, he saw no need to buy silence.

Well, if one thing was sure, Brant would not be the sheriff much longer, not after letting everybody know what he did with Barnabas Collins, and that had been a weird one, too. Should have been on to him from the start.

When Brant was not the sheriff anymore, maybe that was the time to settle scores...


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Zeb frowned. Now it was common knowledge. And instead of feeling vindicated, as he would have been not long ago, he felt disappointed.

Much as he wanted to feel like an aggrieved party, he no longer could. The fact that he had almost killed Buffy Torrance and put Jessica in grave danger would not go away. All because of his obsession to destroy Collins and Brant. For the crime to destroying his childhood illusions.

He had dreamed of exposed them, subject them to jeers and ridicule. Well, Brant had made it public himself and he, he was still getting himself together.

He had been raped as a child. His parents had not know... maybe chosen not to know. Uncle Dave was away, miles away. In his mind he had become this protector, the one who would make it right, if he only knew. And that certainty had nurtured him through the years. It was that certainty that had made him choose Medical School. And then he came back to Collinsport, where Uncle Dave had lived, hoping to find there a vindication, an epiphany.

And then things were not as he expected them to be... Uncle Dave had been one of _those_. He was just like the creep who had assaulted him.

It took many hours with Julia Hoffman to get to the bottom of his anger and his fear. That yes, Uncle Dave had been gay, and that he liked young men. But even when he was careless with the ages of his partners, it was never for more than a few months. No children. All past puberty. All capable of feeling desire and finding satisfaction in their ... er... activities. And he, like most people, had little sympathy for child molesters. Yes, if he had known what happened to his nephew he would have defended him. Would have beaten that creep to a pulp, and then lectured his parents as to why they had not seen...

And now...

Now, he had to concentrate on getting well. He had to concentrate in mending his relationship to Jessica, who still had him on probation. And he could only hope that one day then Torrances might forgive him.

* * *

"Why did you adopt Urien Yost?" the reporter asked Barnabas.

It was very hard to keep his temper with that kind of question being thrown at him. Still, he tried.

"Somebody had to take care of him."

"He was a male prostitute, wasn't he?"

"Yes. Fortunately that part of his life is over and done with."

"Did that influence your decision?"

"In the sense that it made it obvious how much help he needed, yes."

"Was the judge aware of your... activities when she authorized the adoption?"

"She was. It is a matter of record that I informed her of my relationship with Sheriff Brant. She asked all the pertinent questions of all of us, and did not authorize the adoption until she was fully satisfied.

"Was it Judge Connors?"

Now they would pester her, too. But there was no way of stopping them. On the other hand, she knew how to use the law against too obnoxious a questioning.

* * *

It was Adam's fault, all of it. Carolyn would not have threatened to send Edmund away on her own. No, Adam had suggested the idea to her.

Roger meant to stop Adam one way or the other. Even if he had to kill him for it.

He could try to make it look like an accident... Only that was what he tried to do with Quentin, and it had somehow not worked.

He would have to make better plans this time. Make sure that Adam did not live to marry Carolyn.

* * *

The woman shied away from him.

"What is the matter?" Barnabas asked "You know that it doesn't hurt. I have done it before, and you know how it is."

"That was before I knew... before Sheriff Brant."

"But what does it have to do with this?"

The woman could not give a satisfactory answer. Why should it matter to her what Barnabas did after he left her throat? But it mattered.

"My sex life and mi... feeding are two different things." he said amiably.

She rubbed her throat nervously.

"And" he added in a bit of pique "homosexuality is not catching. Not by letting me feed, certainly."

He wondered how long an argument he would have to put up. He was not only hungry but irritated, and tired of giving the same speech over and over, not to mention all the unsolicited advice that he had received on the subject.

"Why should it make a difference to you?" he asked, with more irritation this time. "If anything, it should reassure you that I will not try anything else with you."

"It is not that."

"Then, what is it?"

"It is.. wrong."

"But you are not condoning anything by letting me feed. And we have condoned worse in this town."

"It is not the same thing." she said, trying to retreat, and wondering if he was going to do it by force. He looked hungry enough for it.

He saw it and left her. It might come to that at the end, that he would be forced to attack them. But he did not want to start that way. He would try with someone else, and try again here after a while. With luck it would all die down and thing would get back to normal. Without luck...

He hoped that it would not get that bad. It was not so much the blood, if worse came to worse, he could go back to cattle, as he had done the first days when Willie released him. But it meant his social life. Most of the people he knew, the friendship he had made, had begun by his feeding off them. He barely knew how to meet people otherwise...

And then the rejection hurt. He considered them his friends and he had honestly thought that it would not matter to hem. Or maybe he had not thought too hard about it.

George had been willing to risk his job, and he had been carried by George's determination, without wondering what he was risking...

Well, things would change sooner or later. He just had to give them time.

* * *

He was getting tired of the calls that were coming. There were always people willing to call you names, with or without provocation, and he was meeting them. He remained polite as he repeated to them, firmly, that they were tying up an official line and not allowing genuine calls to come through. People who actually needed the police at that moment. But after saying it a few times, he felt like adding a few acid comments to it.

The telephone rang again. He picked it up with a sigh.

"Sheriff's Office. Sheriff Brant speaking." he said wondering why he could not have somebody to screen the calls. There had been talk of it at the budget meeting, and then the money went to something else, which meant that when the deputies were away he became his own receptionist.

"That's very cute of you, very cute." the man at the other end said angrily.

"Sir, this is an official line. If you want to comment on my personal conduct, I will appreciate that you used my personal phone instead of tying up this line."

"I know that it is an official line. And this is official business, or should be if you had been doing your job instead of talking about your private business with reporters. Is that what I pay taxes for? to have you do nothing to chat with reporters about your personal life, while monsters walk around, tearing up the place?"

"What... what monsters?

"You must have the report, don't you? My dog was killed last night."

"You should have kept it confined." he tried to sound reasonable. "I received several complaints about that dog from your neighbors."

"Damn it! I saw it! It was big,. And it had claws that big, and it left prints and everything...

Guy Haines was a chronic complainer. Not to mention the complaints lodged against him. He was making several lawyers rich. He usually brushed Haines off as a nuisance, but now, his single minded request for attention was refreshing after so many sober, solid citizens found nothing better to do than to inflict their opinions and advice on him.

As long as Haines got to feud with his neighbors in the courts, he could not care less what Sheriff Brant did.

"I will go take a look."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

"He did it!" Guy Haines was saying, wildly. "He tore my dog's throat with a swipe of his arm. And he was huge as a house and..."

George let him ramble. He knew the style of Haines' accusations. His imagination always had a free rein, and he could make a convincing witness to things that he had never seen. But, you had to hand it to him, he was honest about it. He would never dream of hiring himself to seedy lawyers.

And the dog had its throat torn. Just as you'd expect form a bear. Only a bear would have chewed on the meat, even a little bit. This one was just clean. And there was something that indicated that no bear was involved. What, he could not figure out.

The fence was torn, presumably by the same paw that had done the damage to the dog. And there were bits of.. something stuck to it. He studied the smear. It had been wounded by the bullet that Haines was shot, at least grazed, and some of it had stuck... No hair. Instead some iridescence. And smelled like... like fish?"

And there was also the bloody imprint of a hand on the telephone post. It was a distorted human hand. But still a hand...

He took scrapings of the blood and flesh from the fence. He also opened the mouth of the dog and took scrapings of the teeth.

He looked at the bloody imprint... It even seemed to have fingerprints on it.

He would take those fingerprints... He did not think that the FBI would have a matching set of these, but you never overlook a possibility.

* * *

Maggie let out a long string of swear words.

"Anything the matter?" Sabrina asked sympathetically.

"Have you seen the Collinsport local paper?"

"Not yet. Why? Did Barnabas get himself in trouble again?"

"The son-of-bitch. He has no idea of what he is doing to me."

"What did he do, this time?"

"Made it public. George Brant had the bright idea of admitting not only that he is gay, but that he is doing it with Barnabas day and day out."

"He didn't!" Sabrina was shocked. "Let me see!"

Maggie let he have the paper and Sabrina studied it.

"I want you to get him. Both of them."

"It will do not good. The damage is done. All you can say is that you are shocked, and that by the time he was connected with you, he was living with a woman, so of course, you could have no inkling that he'd go the other way.. He never gave you a hint." she smiled. "If you feel like that, you can admit that he once went to bed with you."

"He should not be allowed to get away with it!"

"He's done it. Let it die out by itself."

"As if this scandal of the congressional pages was not bad enough.!"

"Retaliating won't help. It may make it worse, by attracting attention to him. Profess shock and surprise. Note that you no longer have a connection, except that every now and then he pushes a cause to you. Talk about your plans, and what you are doing for your district. The next election is twenty months away. It will have died down by then. Get your name on some bill or such. Secure funding for something that they want very badly. By November of 1984 it will all be over."

"You could have taken care of him in 1980."

"It could not be done, and you know it."

"I feel like killing him myself."

"Don't do it. Brant might arrange to have you arrested and convicted. Felons are not allowed to hold office."

* * *

George Brant could not believe it. He had taken the fingerprints off the post out of thoroughness, and he had looked on them as a curiosity. But still, they had looked so human, with their ridges and whorls, that he had decided to compare with the ones he had on file, if only to see how human they looked...

Only that by the third set of fingerprints, he had found a match. Every point of similarity. Not just one finger, but on several...

Shocked he looked at the name on the file.

Phillip Todd.

Whatever had killed the dog had the same prints as the missing and presumed dead Phillip Todd.

* * *

Anselm Trask pulled down his sleeve. He felt a bit giddy. It was the first time he had done this..

"Thanks, Reverend," Barnabas said.

"You know that I expect more than words of thanks. A few cans of tuna. Or cans of vegetables. Some cheeses or dried jerky. Non perishable food for the pantry. Or perishable food to go into the soup."

"Yes. I know the pantry rules. You get helped, but you must give back. And I have become more sensitized to hunger lately. "

"Well, until Vicky recovers I am running it, and I am not going to change her system. It is a good one, that stretches our resources."

"You do not mind helping me? I take it that you do not approve of what the sheriff and I do."

"That is no reason to allow you to go hungry. Our mission is to feed the hungry, and you qualify now. And, to be practical, it is not a good idea to let a vampire go hungry. Not because they are more desperate than hungry humans, they are not, but because they can do more damage... Although hungry people with guns can be quite dangerous, too... In any case, you contribute with food or work, and you get fed. Our clients will know that they will be expected to contribute to you every now and then."

"You are quite... open-minded Reverend."

"I got to have a certain experience...And I got to face some unpleasant facts about myself."

"You are not blaming yourself for your ancestors, I hope."

"No. It has to do with the time that Brant confessed his relationship with you to me. When you had that uncontrollable hunger. I wanted to remonstrate with him, to show him how sinful he was, why he should renounce his perversion... I am sorry, that's how I saw it."

"But instead?"

"Instead I was terrified to see him at a loss. With no idea of what to do. It really scared me. I realized then how much I relied on him to protect us, to know what do. If he was lost, then what would happen to us? It was a purely selfish reaction. And so true. And then I thought of Megan Graham. She pulled the fat out of the fire for all of us too many times. But still I had to act outraged about her... activities. Megan and Sheriff Brant made it possible for us to live carefree lives. And we used that freedom to judge them, to condemn them.. I decided to stop being a hypocrite about it."

* * *

"I am sure that next time we will find it. "Derek said cheeringly to Patterson. as they were drinking at the Blue Whale

"You think so?" Patterson said coldly "It just seems to me a colossal waste of time and money. My money."

"You'll see how it is going to pay off this time."

"It is not going to. Sure, you keep telling me about rocks and loose pieces of timber, and how you are sure, and how you follow the accounts of the gun battle, and matched them with maps, and all that."

"Those rocks were the ones in which you'd expect a ship to sink. They are treacherous, so close to the surface, yet hidden from view. Ta night, in the middle of a gun battle, the ship could have hit them, and spring a leak."

Patterson growled. He did not care to listen to Derek's explanations again.. They were certainly credible. and sensible if you were in the mood to take them seriously, which he was not. Al he wanted was to get out of Collinsport and forget his humiliation. That he should have been locked up in his own jail. That he should have to listen to that squirt tell him that he was free to go, and that he'd better keep out of trouble in the future. That he was called a blackmailer by a fag like that...

Brant had stolen his job. Brant had humiliated him. And he could not strike back. He wanted out. He wanted to take his money or what was left of it and go back to Florida.

Derek sensed this. But he needed Patterson to stay. He needed his money to find the treasure. It would be a shame to stop now, when they were so close...

"Give it one more day, at least.. Who knows,, we might find yet? And think of what it would mean to get it." he added a bit maliciously "Brant refuses to believe that there is a treasure down there. Wouldn't you like to show him the opportunity that he passed up?"

It was not nice, what he was doing, Derek thought, setting Brant to be taunted by Patterson. But he _had_ to keep Patterson from leaving.

"Hmm..." Patterson seemed to be thinking it over.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

It... he... swam into the sea. The salt stung him in the places were his flesh had been torn by the dog's teeth and the barbed wire. It did not bleed anymore, and as much as he was aware of it, it reassured him. Somehow he knew that the blood could attract predators, some of them large enough to be able to devour him.

His mind seemed a bit clearer now. After walking on dry ground, his mind began accepting ideas that plopped into his mind with no previous warning. Like the knowledge that that the creature that had attacked him on dry land was a dog.

A dog... and then other words... or ideas... or whatever, coming to him.

"Vicky." he thought. "Vicky... Collinsport...Vicky.." home.

* * *

"Phillip? Are you sure?" Barnabas asked.

"All the fingers I got prints of matched. I double checked it several times. We had his fingerprints since he was arrested for Paul Stoddard's murder."

"So Phillip's alive. And he's back."

"And has been turned into something not human."

"We may have to tell Vicky."

"When she regains consciousness. She is too sleepy and drugged to make sense of what we tell her."

Barnabas nodded. Telling Vicky could wait. At least until they knew more of what had happened...

"Evidently Phillip got into some trouble. What, I cannot tell. We might need help. What a time for Angelique to be gone..."

It was really bad timing. Angelique could give them the answers they needed, and Megan, more important, could ask the right questions. But they were gone, and they would not be able to contact them for a while..

'In the meantime" George continued "I am drafting you as a quick and dirty analytical laboratory. I scraped off some dried blood. I want you to taste it and tell me what you can find out."

"Much of it gets lost when it dries."

"I know. But try anyway."

Barnabas put a pinch of it on his tongue and concentrated.

"Fish" he said. "it is fish blood."

And the scraps of torn flesh _had_ smelled like fish, only, what was a fish doing inland, tearing at dogs with claws?

"And yet it had a familiar taste."

"Does it taste like Phillip?"

"I cannot tell that much. I did not bite him that often in the past. And, I told you, once the blood dries, a lot of it is lost. But it does taste familiar. This is someone whose blood I took before."

"And still it is fish blood?"

"Yes." Barnabas shook his head "Maybe we should get Amy, or Sebastian, if he's still around, to help with this."

* * *

It would have to look like an accident, Roger decided. And he would have to be more careful than he had been in his attempts to kill Quentin. Quentin himself had once tried to kill Carolyn. Who was to say that Adam would not try, too, and that he might succeed where Quentin had failed? Carolyn could be so blind...

Taking the brakes out of the car was not a good idea. Carolyn drove it as much as Adam. Dropping a statue from the terrace on top of Adam's head needed time and opportunity. And he had been seen when he had tried that with Quentin. That time it had been Derek. Even if Derek could no longer fly, there were plenty of curious maids, and Carolyn might have asked one of them to check on her troublesome uncle...

What about poisoning Adam's paints? He was the only one who used them, in the studio. He had to find a poison that he could inject into the paint, and let the fumes do their work.

* * *

Quentin had changed. Carolyn could see it now, just by the way he held himself.

He was now a man that she could respect. A man, even, that she might love...

She stopped her imagination short. Their marriage was over. And it had never been much.

"I want to thank you for what you did for Adam."

"I owed it to him. He gave me my future."

"I wish to..." what was that she wanted to say? To reward him for bringing Adam back to her? To apologize for the way she had treated him in the past?

Quentin nodded sagely "I know that you are grateful, and I am glad that you and I are friends again. But it was not for you that I did it."

"I want to... to show my appreciation for you."

"I understand. And also to apologize for what happened between us."

"I was horrid with you."

"I was no angel, either. I did try to kill you, after all."

"I understand that you are trying to start some business, and that you need money. Could I help?"

Quentin smiled "As an investment, sure. Just not as a gift."

"Even if I want to?"

"Because I do not want it if you think that you owe it to me."

"But I do owe you."

"Then repay me by reminding me that I will never have anything unless I earn it. I am serious. I have to know it, not must intellectually, as I do now, but in my bones. And the sooner the lesson starts the better."

"Quentin, please."

"Dear Carolyn, it has noting to do with you. It is just what Adam did to me. He returned a normal life to me. A live in which I have only a limited amount of time and only a few chances to make something of myself. I cannot fail and shrug it off, saying that I have all the time in the world, as I used to. I am not doing this out of spite nor desire to hurt you, but because after so many years of not growing up, I have a lot to catch up to. I _have_ to behave like an adult, not a spoiled child. And that means no accepting gifts, nor anything that I have not earned."

"I feel so... rejected."

Quentin relented "Maybe there is still enough in me of then old Quentin, and he still resents you. Maybe I have not forgiven you completely. I _am_ still growing up. But still, I cannot accept gifts. What you can do is to make a donation to a homeless shelter, Or better, towards affordable housing, of which there seems to be less and less each day. Remember how we found Adam, and think that there are too many in American who go through the same, and no one comes rescue them."

* * *

Phillip kept swimming close to the shore. The dry land was alien, hostile. His wounds still stung him, but he would not go deeper into the water.

There was something there that called to him. Someone.

"Vicky" he thought "Vicky."

It was difficult for him to hold thoughts. His brain seemed incapable of juggling concepts or ideas, as it once did. Yet part of him was aware that he used to know more once.

And if he could get Vicky back, he would regain what was lost.

Something had happened to him... someone had done something...

Someone who wanted to keep him apart from Vicky...

* * *

"Well, Doctor, did you find anything?" George asked Julia, who had been running tests of the scrapings George had collected.

"The cells are not human cells. They are fish cells. Some odd sort of fish. And yet there is some human characteristics..."

"A man-fish?"

"Whatever you want to call it."

"Can it be Phillip Todd?"

"That you can tell better than I. You are the one who matched the fingerprints."

She was right. He was the one with the evidence that Phillip Todd might be back. What had happened to him... that they had to find out.

"Did you try to track him down with dogs?"

"We tried. The trail ended at the water's edge. He is back in the sea."

"If he is Phillip Todd, he might come back, looking for Vicky."

* * *

It had to be down there. Derek studied the sea bottom below. These should be the rocks on which the ship had foundered. The ship should be close by. Probably all covered with barnacles and seaweeds, but still recognizable.

He came further down, sure that if he passed one more rock, just one more rock, he would see it.

And there was something that looked like a ship, only it was not. And something beyond it, that looked it even more.

And the closer he came, the more it looked like it...

It WAS the ship. He could see it now. No mistake this time. He had found it. He _had_ found the ship.

He swan inside the main cabin, through the open window. He had to be careful because it had some razor sharp shells on top of it.

And there, as he had known all the time, was the strong box. As hermetically locked as it had been when the boat had sunk, still filled with treasure.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

"I got a part time job at this lab." David explained to Barnabas on he phone. "Not much money yet, but the experience is invaluable. I am analyzing water samples for the presence of pollutants."

"What kind of pollutants? What do you find in the water?"

"Chemical pollutants. Phenols, Cyanides. Sulfates. Heavy metals, like lead. You have no idea what kind of stuff can find its way into the water to poison us all."

"It sounds quite unpleasant."

"Could be worse. Like the time they had me analyze raw sewage."

'You poor thing...: Barnabas commiserated.

"Oh it is very important that I know how to handle it and know what to look for. But it is true, the stuff that we work with, if it doesn't stink, is poisonous, cancerigenous, or burns you. We are the first line of defense of everyone who gets water from the tap... In any case, even if the money is not much, still, it helps. I make more that I did at the A&P, but of course, I am not getting room and board with you anymore. Now I have none of it, and I have Elliot to support."

"How is Hallie doing?"

"She gives voice lessons. She also sings at parties. Birthdays, wedding, bar mitzvahs, first communion, graduation.. anything that people celebrate, she is glad to come and sing. That helps a bit. She is hoping to get a position at the Music Department. Or get hired to direct the choir in some church. But nothing yet."

"I hope that something comes of it."

"Oh, it will. Don't you worry about us, Barnabas, really."

* * *

Jeff Thompson and his men pulled out the strongbox. No one said a word as they laid it down on the ground and picked up the tools to open it with. No one would dare.

Derek studied Patterson for a moment. He was eager, looking almost childlike in his wonder. And so, he thought, must he look.

He returned to looking at the box. It would take time to force it open... or rather too much time. Cutting the metal made more sense. He watched the blue flame run over the box trying to pierce it.

Derek chewed on his nails. He realized it. In his years as a vampire he had stopped doing it, and suddenly... He had much to catch up on, and how he would have the money for it..

The metal side fell off, revealing the contents. There was a soggy pulp with traces of tell-tale green in it. They might as well forget about the money, the paper kind, at least. But it was not the money they were after. It was the jewels.

"There were jewels in it, were they not?" Patterson asked.

"Yes. And they are tougher than paper money."

"I hope that they are there."

They found a metallic box inside it. Large enough to qualify as a jewelry chest.

They forced it open quickly.

And the jewels were there. Not so bright after soaking for so long. But still gold, and silver, and gems.

Derek lifted one necklace, blinking at the emeralds and rubies. It _was_ there. he _had_ been right after al. And this was the reward.

More and more jewels came out. Could they have been made by Faberge himself? He hoped so. It would add so much more to the romance. And if they were to find a jeweled egg too...

And the egg appeared.

"An egg!" Derek shouted with delight. "A Faberge Easter Egg! It is... it is beautiful. It is worth more than the other stuff put together... they don't make things like this anymore..."

* * *

"How can you do this to us?" Maggie wailed.

"How could I do what?" George forced himself to be polite.

"You and Barnabas. Did you have to get it in the papers?"

"I realized that the time had come for it. It had to do with my effectiveness in my job."

"But why now?"

"It was always a bad time. I am sorry that we inconvenienced you."

"Do you realize what this means?"

"I am aware that at one time Barnabas was involved in your campaign. But that was ages ago. You two have had no connection with each other for a while, he is just another constituent who every now and then writes about his pet cause. I am willing to say that my relationship with Barnabas did not start until quite a while after he left your staff."

"That's not enough."

"It has to be, Maggie. Why not be reasonable and accept that Barnabas is going his own way?"

"I never minded his going his own way. I didn't care about Angelique, or Iris, or Roxanne..."

"Sure, no matter how twisted the relationship you two have, it is not sexual. Make believe that I am a woman and let us be."

"I will get you for this."

'Just make sure that you don't cut your own throat if you do so."

* * *

Iris offered Quentin a glass of wine.

"I am not sure what you expect of me." Quentin said, a bit abashed.

"I'd like you to go to bed with me."

Quentin's smile froze.

"Am I so unattractive, then?" Iris asked, noting his reaction.

"You ask me to come with a promise to invest. Then you try to buy me with it. I don't want that. I will not sell myself, or rent myself by the hour. I hope that those days are over with."

"I did not say anything about payment."

"You invited me to talk about business, didn't you?"

Iris shrugged. "You really did not expect it when you came?"

Quentin looked down on his glass of wine. "It happened to me before. I used to take advantage of those offers. Do you want to know if I was ever a gigolo? Yes. More than once. But those days are over with."

"You did not think that I was the type that would pay you?"

Quentin looked at her. "You are too young still for that game. Thought you may still be smarting over your broken relationship with Barnabas.. and maybe you are lonely. The responsibility of raising your nephew, with his problems is a bit heavy, and you got no one to share it with. On top of that, now everybody knows that Barnabas left you for a man, and people find it amusing, if they do not pity you. It irks you. You want to show that you can do better than Barnabas. I am around. I got a reputation. I am looking for investors, so you invite me over."

"If you know so much," she said angrily :"why did you accept my invitation?"

"You may have been sincere in your offer. I cannot afford to pass up the possibility of a legitimate investor."

Iris' face reddened. "You are available, that's all." she said angrily "you do it with everyone, why not me? Sure, you are good looking, but if I had my choice, if I had Barnabas with me, I'd not look at you twice. You are good for a one-night stand, no more. And I am begging you!" she began to weep. "Can you imagine that? That you, of all people, reject me!"

Quentin swallowed an angry retort. He had a long history to live down. He could not expect people to believe that he had changed in such a short notice. It would take time and patience for them to know him as he was now.

"So I am not good enough for you?" Iris continued. "I am not good enough for Quentin Collins who'd jump in bed with anything in skirts, who was only too willing to become husband in name to Carolyn, for money. He is too exquisite for the likes of me. He is too good for Barnabas' leftovers, is that it?"

"Iris..." he was now angry with himself. The woman was in pain. He had no right to hurt her so.

He knew what Barnabas would do. He, out of compassion and a sense of duty would jump in bed with her. But he would not do it. He was not Barnabas. And whoever the new Quentin was, he could not plan his life around Barnabas' actions.

"I am sorry, Mrs. White." he said, ready to leave. "Please, don't take it as a personal insult. It was not meant to be. It is not you. It is me." he grimaced. "I can't"

"What do you mean you can't? You always could."

"Something happened to me."

She stared at him. "You mean that you can't get it up anymore?"

He stiffened. It would be a lie, and one that he did not like to be talked about. But it would be a comfort to her, and he could always claim to have recovered later.

"If you wish to put it so." he said somberly.

* * *

Maria Barbosa polished the silver. It would be a while before she could show it off to guests. A while before they could taken in guests. They had to finish fixing the house, to undo the damage of the fire. Fortunately it was a stone house, not wood, so it had remained standing. The destroyed floors and frames had been replaced, and now it remained to clean the walls.

It was a lot of work, but they had gotten it cheap, "as is". Plus, since Megan wanted to paid in cash before she left town, she agreed to a much lower price. And she had said that there were trucks in the attic that held some old stock. Anything of value that they could find, that had not been ruined by the heat or the smoke, they were welcome to it.

And so they had found this silver, which she was now polishing. It would look great over the linens. Gave her bed and breakfast a touch of class.

She looked at the house again. Even in the middle of the repairs, she knew that it was what she and Eric wanted. A place away from the city, a place by the beach, A place to grow roots, and raise children...


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

"I _should_ have invested in it." George admitted "he offered to me several times, and I turned him down because I knew better. Will you kindly kick me?"

"I will not." Barnabas said.

"They even found a Faberge egg. Did you ever see one of them?"

'No."

"I saw one once, in Boston, on a class trip. I was a kid and I wanted to play with it. Of course, I could not. It was under glass. I kept thinking of it. I remembered it after I had forgotten the other stuff there. It was so much like a toy. Come Easter, I found a cheap substitute. But I always had a hankering for the real thing. I thought that when I would grow up I would get one. Then I found out how much they cost, and how few of them are there... but I still dream of it. And to think that I passed up a chance like that... You should kick me, Barnabas. I deserve it."

* * *

Peter rubbed the pane. He knew that the ballroom would appear now. He knew the times when it would and when it would not.

And indeed, it did. The ladies and gentlemen, with uniforms and silk gowns, dancing. But this time the ballroom was different. there was more light coming from the outside, and the silvery spider webs, always present, delicate like lace, were gone. The window at the back had opened wide and daylight poured in.

* * *

Hallie felt hungry. Not for food, for sex. Her sex life with David was satisfactory, or would be, if he had been an ordinary human. but was one admitted to the company of the gods, and her appetites were so much stronger for it.

She knew why it was so. She had offered sacrifices to Ra, but they had been only women, caught with simple deceit. In none of the had the flame of sexual desire been lit before walking into Ra's arms. No man had offered himself to her, as Dirk Wilkins and others had offered himself to Laura. No woman desired her body, either. Zoya, who had been closest to her, had never laid in her arms. All her desires, her needs, had gone to David. And it should be that way, because Elliot had to be David's son, Laura's blood intermingling with hers.

But now David was not enough. Would never be enough for Ra's demands.

* * *

"Quite a nice toy, that egg." Patterson said, condescendingly.

"Toy!" Derek was offended "It is worth more than the other stuff put together. It is a Faberge egg. Don't you know anything about them? They were made specially for the tsar, and there are only a few in existence. They are priceless, not just for the gold and stones they contain, but because of their craftsmanship, their scarcity, their... romance..'

Patterson snorted. "Who told you that? George Brant? He must have. And when did he tell you? While you two were lying in bed?"

Derek got up, furious. "Look, I know that you didn't like being thrown in jail and all that. But be careful about what you say about Brant to me."

"My, you have thin skin. You must have hated it when he threw you over for Barnabas Collins."

"Brant and I were never lovers." Derek managed to say calmly.

Patterson snickered.

Derek hit him. It surprised him as much as it did Patterson. All his life he had avoided violence, mainly because he was aware that he was as likely, if not more, to end up at the receiving end rather than the giving. but this filthy minded old man knew how to get to him.

The old man retaliated hard. He was no stranger to violence. He had had to subdue a few unruly prisoners and rioters, and he used his experience on Derek.

They kept hitting at each other for a while. Then they ran out of breath and the fight ended. They stepped back for air and eyed each other warily.

"You have a filthy mind, Patterson." Derek said. "you better watch out."

* * *

Phillip left the sea again. He remembered the dog's teeth. he remembered the drying of his gills, which he had to relieve with the water he carried in his pouch. He remembered the strangeness around him, the way his body had felt heavy. And yet something pulled him back. He had to go there.

He had to find Vicky.

He kept climbing the road. There were no dogs this time. The cattle noted his passage, but, as before, they were content to know that he would not come closer.

He knew the way, how to get back home, to Vicky... For one moment he hesitated, pondering this new word that had come into his mind: "home" And then other words "Old House.' "Barnabas Collins". And then it was Vicky, Vicky, Vicky...

And this was something that he could understand and follow...

The dark was heavy around him and no one saw him. There were cats around, but they had the good sense to run away, as well as the small wildlife, without giving the alarm.

He reached the house where he had lived, where he knew that Vicky was.

He knew that he should be _inside_ it. But there was no opening. It was just a solid rock, like the ones he swam around, down in the water...

But this rock had a caver. There was an opening into a cave...

Some parts of the rock did not feel like the others. They felt... easier to come through... a bit softer.. a bit... he pounded on them...

* * *

"Eric. Did you hear that?" Maria asked

Eric just grunted.

It was the pipes, of course. Pipes make a lot of noise. Old houses make lots of noise. To be expected. You have to learn to ignore those noises if you wanted to get some sleep.

"I could swear that there is somebody outside." Maria insisted, but then shrugged and laid back again.

They went back to sleep.

Then the pounding resumed.

She sat up on the bed. "That was not the pipes!"

It could be any of the sounds of the sea... Or... or something... Eric just wanted to go back to sleep...

"Eric, listen. There is something out there."

Eric opened reluctant eyes. "It is the pipes, I tell you."

"It is not!"

"You never lived in an old house."

The pounding grew stronger.

"It is not the pipes! Not this! There is somebody trying to get in!"

* * *

Phillip kept pounding at the door. He knew that this was how he would find the opening to the cave. The way he would get in and find Vicky...

* * *

"It is here!" Eric realized it at last. "It is trying to get in."

He had gotten a glimpse of it form the upstairs window. Looked like a man... but not quite... Something wrong with the shape of the head... or the arms, or...

It was not human, he managed to think.

He raced for his gun. He would need it. Maria had given him an argument about it before, but now she was glad he had it.

"You call the police" he told her.

Just then the door gave way and Phillip entered his house.

Eric saw it move among the furniture. What was it? He could not aim well where he was...

Phillip moved closer to the staircase as Eric came down. Phillip was looking for Vicky. Eric for a good shot.

Eric stumbled and fell. Phillip turned towards him. Eric lifted his gun. He saw the monstrous face loom over him. He pulled the trigger as Phillip's claw swept over his shoulder...

Phillip stepped back, howling in pain, blood pouring from his arm.

Eric grabbed his own arm, where Phillip's claws had torn him...


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

"You did not see this creature, Mrs. Barbosa?"

"No. He saw it.. I just heard him trying to get in...I told him that there was something there... he went down..." she sobbed. "if he hadn't".

"He will be all right. It is a nasty wound, yes, but they will fix it.. Did he say anything as he was going down the stairs?"

"Something like fish... a man-fish..."

George sighed. It fit. Eric Barbosa had the same claw marks as the dog. There was some iridescent scales stick to some furniture... George was sure of what the lab report would say...

And the previous owner of the house was named Todd...

"What kind of town is this, anyway?" Maria said, irritated. "We thought that this was a peaceful community. We came because of this..."

Indeed. George resisted the temptation to say something pungent. All those people who left the rat race in the city and went back to the small towns, had romantic ideas about bucolic communities. They ended up quite surprised when they saw the other side of the coin.

But with Eric Barbosa being patched at he hospital, and given massive doses of antibiotics to stop any infection, it was not the time to enlighten anybody.

* * *

"Where is the egg?" Derek shouted at Patterson. "You took it!"

"What egg?" Patterson raised his eyebrows "you mean that cute wind-up toy? Why should I do anything with it?"

"You took it. And you have no right to do so. It is part of what we got, and we should split it, as we agreed."

Patterson looked blandly at him. "You want to know what I think?" I think that you are the one who took it. After all, you are the one who keeps insisting how valuable it is. You took it and now you are trying to pin the blame on me."

"If you don't return it, I am going to call the police."

"Call the police if you will." Patterson shrugged "But it was you who took it."

* * *

It _was_ Phillip." George said to Barnabas. "It was his old house that he was going to. And he left fingerprints again. But something happened to him as he keeps leaving a trail of water, seaweed, and fish scales...

"Evidently he was transformed into some sort of aquatic creature. A man-fish, as Eric Barbosa put it."

"How could it have happened? "

"Some sort of spell. And someone to put in on him, for reasons that we know nothing about, yet."

"Maybe that was what Derek mistook for a shark. I should have paid more attention then."

"You looked for a shark, which made sense... I think that we should tell Vicky about it."

George shook his head. "What for? It will not help her any, and it will probably hurt her."

"Sooner or later, she'll have to know."

"Later rather than sooner."

"Phillip might try to go after her again. Do you recall the statement of the driver who ran her over? That she was running as if escaping from someone or something?"

"He was drunk. He was ready to say anything not to be charged."

"What if Phillip came out of the water to go to her? What if he's seeking her? He's bound to come out of the water again and again."

"She's in the hospital. I can't imagine him knowing what room she's in, or even that she's in the hospital. And getting inside will not be easy for him."

"Still, I believe that she should be told."

"Why? What good would that possibly do?

"It will prepare her. We may be able to capture Phillip, and even try to reverse the spell. We may need her cooperation for that. And it will be better if she's ready and controls herself so that he does not see her rejecting him. I don't want to have her running away screaming when she sees him."

"If we capture him, there will be time to prepare her. In the meantime she needs to rest, not to worry about him."

* * *

"Peter seems to be improving." Iris told the Kings as she served herself another drink. "He's gone through a lot. But he's better now. He spends too much time alone, looking at the window, in my opinion. But Ms. Morton told me to give it time. She has a lot to get over with, Violet, Delia, and Yolanda."

"I am still kicking myself for inflicting Yolanda on you." Zeb confessed.

"She deceived a lot of people" Jessica said softly, "even Barnabas. She got to Audrey, too. She could make you see what she wanted you to see."

"She helped us deceive ourselves. And I was quite ready to deceive myself." Zeb continued. "I had no right to impose myself on you. I was not thinking of Peter when I came to you. I just wanted to hurt Barnabas and the sheriff... I have no excuse. And I repeated my folly with that flying saucer." he took Jessica's hand. "I don't know why you don't divorce me,."

"Barnabas and the sheriff are lovers." Iris said, darkly, downing yet another drink... And no body seems to care. And even you, you don't care about it anymore."

"I learned what a fool I had been. I am trying now to be a sensible person. I can't pretend to understand what they do, and how two men can love each other.. But I know that letting myself open to dangerous creatures is not the answer."

His sessions with Julia were painful. He had had to unearth old hurts, not just of the man who abused him, but of his patents not believing him, and punishing him for 'telling lies." It was a lot of buried rage, rage that Laura and Yolanda had been able to exploit.

He was learning to let go of the rage, and it was not easy.

Iris poured herself another drink. Jessica looked at it alarmed. How many glasses had Iris drunk?


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

George tried to hold his temper. Why him? Why now, when he could be hunting for Phillip? Barnabas might well decide to tell the news to Vicky, anyway, and instead of being there to stop him, he had to listen to Patterson and Derek complain about each other.

"The Faberge egg has disappeared, is that it? And you accuse each other of stealing it."

"He's the one who did it." Patterson said venomously "He's the one with the record. He's the one who knew its true value."

"And made no secret of it, while you disparaged it any chance you got."

"Yes. Fancy toy."

"You''' forgive me, Patterson" George said " for thinking that your behavior is more suspicious than his. If he planned to steal it he would not go around telling everybody how much it was worth. He would call it a fancy toy, just as you did, and pocketed it as a souvenir."

Patterson's face congested "I am not a thief!" he protested.

"What you are, Patterson, you don't need to say it aloud."

"What do you mean, faggot?"

George winced, but kept his composure. "You know what I mean. I am getting tempted to lock you up again. I probably will if you don't behave yourself."

Patterson scowled.

"On the other hand, you have a point. Derek could well be the thief. He knows what the egg is worth."

"But I did not do it!" Derek protested.

"I wish that I could believe you protestations of innocence, Derek. I really do. But you know that I can't."

Derek nodded "I understand. I protested too much in the past."

George allowed himself a small grin as he recalled the first time that he had heard Derek protest. He had been wearing only a towel and had been found in possession of the four pairs of handcuffs which were missing from inventory. He looked at Derek, and realized that Derek remembered it too.

"He's the one who took it." Patterson insisted. "I am not the one who cares for pansy toys."

George sighed. "I hope that you just said 'fancy'', for your sake. At this moment I have several free cells and I would be glad to extend to you my hospitality."

"You wouldn't!"

"I can arrest you here and now on suspicion of theft. Do you want that?"

"But he was the one who took it Of course, you believe anything he said, anyway. I wonder why it is so? Were you close, once?

This was just too much for George. He caught Patterson by the lapels and shook him.

"Patterson" he said, his voice deceptively calm. "You are a mean, petty, poisonous man. That is not a crime. You live in mud and you want everyone else to share in the mud with you. You live to look down on people. I wonder if you ever looked up to anyone. And to think that I used to admire you. But there is nothing to admire, is there? You are hollow, Patterson. You always were. This town did not get rid of you soon enough. Get out of my sight before I forget that I am wearing a uniform."

"You got no right to it."

"I got more right to it that you ever did."

* * *

Vicky stared at him, as if she did not understand what he was trying to tell her.

Phillip was not dead. Phillip was alive...

Phillip had been turned into some sort of a monster...

"I felt that you should know" Barnabas was telling her. "We are trying to track him, to find him.." he almost said "to capture him:, but stopped himself in time.

"What do you mean, a monster?"

"A man-fish. That' what we can get from the lab results and the witnesses. A man in a fish suit, the shape of a man, but covered with scales. Hands somewhat larger than human, with webbing between the fingers."

"No!" Vicky wailed "Not that! Not that arm!"

"What arm, Vicky?"

"It can't be him! It could never be!"

"He left fingerprints. We double checked them. It _is_ Phillip. How he was transformed and why, we don't know, but we think that we might be able to reverse it. If it is a spell, there must be counter spell to apply. All we need is to find it. " once Vicky was calmer, he remember what she had said. "What about that arm, Vicky?"

"The arm.." Vicky said, shaking. "I saw the arm. It came out of the sea. It shot up, just like that." she extended her own arm high up in the air. "It was like a human arm, only covered with this grayish skin. But shining, iridescent... I could see the scales... how they glittered. and I saw the claw."

She shivered, as she recalled the arm coming for her. Barnabas waited until she had calmed down again and pressed on. "Anything else about the arm?"

"There was webbing between the fingers, too. And I ran... I grabbed little Phillip and ran. And now you tell me that Phillip was that... that thing. That I ran away from Phillip who was only trying to reach me." she began to weep. "But it can't be Phillip! How can Phillip become something like that? "It can't be! I would never run away from Phillip! Never!"

Barnabas let her cry. Sooner or later Vicky had to find out about Phillip, and the hideous thing that had happened to him. And the sooner she learned it, the sooner she would recover from her shock, and start thinking about it with a clear head.."

Because they would need her help in the days ahead. It was very likely that Phillip suffered from amnesia or some brain damage. brought about by the spell that transformed him. If she cooperated with them she could reach Phillip a lot better than they might.

Capturing Phillip might be the easy part. Getting through to him would be much harder. Phillip might not recognize Barnabas nor anyone else. But he might recognize Vicky (If only they could contact Megan... Phillip might recognize her too...)

And Vicky had to be able to stand in front of him, smile and fake cheerfulness. And he needed her to be able to do that.

He did not doubt that she could do it. There was steel in her. He was no longer a helpless damsel in distress that needed protecting at all costs. She just had to get over the shock that the news provoked in her, and then she'd do whatever needed to be done.

"I can't believe it." Vicky was saying. "I can't believe it."

But she would. Soon.

Barnabas bent over and kissed her forehead "It is all right, Vicky. It will be all right, if we work at it."

He left her, and called on Reverend Trask to come comfort her.

* * *

He was weak. There was pain in him and also some foreign object lodged in his arm. He had lost blood and could not swim well. He might attract a shark. He usually could hold his own with them, but not now. If any of them came, he would become a meal in no tine...

He was dying... and he should not die here. Not in the sea. He was NOT of the sea. He should go back to dry land, where he belonged. He should go back to where Vicky was.

He should die on dry land...

He began to swim back towards the shore.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

"Oh, boy, oh boy." George sighed.

"I take it that you had quite a day." Barnabas said sympathetically."

"I don't know if I can take more of Patterson. One of these days I am going to forget that I am wearing a uniform and beat him up."

"You won't."

"I am not so sure." George scowled. "And when I think that I used to admire him, I get sick. There is nothing to admire there. He's just a hollow shell. Maybe he was that all the time and I was taken in. I wanted to become sheriff because of him."

"Never wanted to become a doctor?"

"No, Strange isn't it? Not that Dave did not try to push me into it." he grinned. "I think that he saw himself as a one-man recruiting drive, considering how many of his boys ended up in Medical School. He wanted to revive the concept of the family doctor, instead of the specialist. He did not like the trend towards specialization, said that it gave you too narrow a view, and that most of them ended up making wrong diagnoses as soon as something outside their field entered the picture... but no, I would not go along. I loved Dave, but I wanted to be Patterson... Well, Dave could be irritating, while I never saw underneath Patterson's surface... Well, I do not think that I made a bad choice, after all, even if my motives were based on false premises."

"You are a good sheriff. You might have ended up a mediocre doctor. And Patterson did have substance when I first knew him. I guess he became bitter after Davenport defeated him."

"I gave him that excuse. That's why I let him blackmail me, telling myself that it was not extortion, that I was willingly helping an old lawman down on his luck. Damn it!"

"What did Patterson do this time?"

George told him, and Barnabas thought about it.

"Either of them could have taken the egg."

"My money is on Patterson. Maybe that's prejudice on my part. I agree that Derek is quite capable of it. But I still say it is Patterson. In any case, we got no leads, and until that egg shows up again, I can kiss goodbye to peace and quiet. How about you? I expected you earlier."

"I had to stop to feed."

"It does not take you that long."

"It was at the food pantry. The rules is that if I feed off the clients there I have to pay it in either work of food. I hauled several bags of potatoes I had gotten at a discount from the supermarket."

"Yes... And you did nothing else? Like stop by the hospital and tell Vicky the news about Phillip?"

"She had to be told."

"She is barely recovering, and you go tell her that her husband has become this kind of monster.? What were you thinking?"

"I had to. She will find out sooner or later, and the sooner she does, the sooner she will be able to cope with it. And she _did_ see it. She described an arm that came out of the sea. All green and scaly, with a human looking hand. It was because of that that she ran into that car."

George shook his head. "I do not know whether to be angry with you or not. Maybe you are right. But you got to stop going over my head. One day you'll make a mess that I won't be able to fix... Anyway, I can't get angry now.. All my anger is concentrated on Patterson, and I can't spare any for you."

* * *

Phillip reached the beach. The waves were crashing down on him as he advanced, draining him even more of his strength. Then there was less weight on him, as the water above him dwindled. And he could feel the air. It was cold, as water never got.

The water pushed him forward, along with the seaweed and foam. He let it carry him and deposit him over the wet sand.

Vicky was not there. And he could not go look for her. He could only lie down and wait, for the cold, for the sun, for death...

* * *

"Did you see how she kept drinking?" Jessica asked Zeb. "I am afraid that she is going to become an alcoholic soon, if she is not one already."

"And it is my fault." Zeb said. "If I had not gotten Yolanda into her house, if I had not taken Peter."

"Look, Zeb King, it is time to stop this guilt trip of yours. I agree, you did a very stupid thing with Laura, and Frank Torrance had every right to beat you up. But it was not you who drove Iris over the edge. You did not kidnap her. You did not stab her. You did not shoot Violet. All that would have happened if you had never been in Collinsport."

"Still, I made it easy for Yolanda to stay in Collinsport. Gave her a base where to operate."

"Yes. But you were hardly the only one to be deceived by her. It is a _very_ long list, so don't feel so damn special about it."

"But I took Peter just to irritate Barnabas. I said things that... that are not true... all because of what had happened to me."

"Well, being assaulted by a grown man and not being believed did you a lot of harm. And you never got to deal with it until now."

"I wonder if I harmed Peter."

"We gave him the closest thing to a normal family life that he ever knew. And we put Audrey to handle him, and she is good."

"Because you insisted on it."

"And you saw that I was right... Come, Zeb. Do I have to ask Barnabas to come and explain to you how dangerous is to let your guilt feelings guide your decisions? He probably wrote the book on it, and is quite glad to share his insights."

* * *

The young man was intimidated by her,, Hallie Collins was scarcely older than he was, but she was David Collins' wife, David Collins who was considered by many to be more of faculty than a student. That they had to make ends meet by her being a voice coach... well, that goes to show that life is tough all over.

And when she taught you, you forgot how young she was, such was he single-minded ferocity with which she attacked her task. It was as if she was some priestess presiding over a barbaric rite, and if you flubbed, you might well find yourself under the sacrificial knife.

Her fingers sought his throat, trying to coax the note she wanted out of it.

On the background the flame on top of a perfumed candle seemed to rise.

"Higher." she instructed him. "higher."

Her fingers seemed made of iron when she touched him. And when her body brushed against him, the reflex was instantaneous. He blushed, hoping that she had not noticed.

But she had. She stared at him, hard, as the flame on top of the candle kept rising.

He was paralyzed, numb. He was not even aware that she was undressing him, making him lie down, straddling him...

Then he was looking at the candle again, at the dancing flame on top of it. He was dressed, trying to sing, and her fingers were trying to coax the sound out of him.

* * *

Well, George had not taken it too badly, Barnabas thought. But then he was too busy complaining about Patterson. He hoped that Vicky got over her shock quickly, because they were going to need her if they were ever going to bring Phillip back to himself.

He was flying over the shore, not sure whether or not he would see anything, but still trying...

He saw the shape by the surf. He did not think much of it. The tide always threw large clumps of seaweed over the shore.

But then the shape moved, and while it could be just the wind, something in it looked unusual.

Could it be..

He flew over it, studied it, and within seconds he had materialized by Phillip's side.

"On, my God." he said.

It was Phillip's face, and yet distorted as to look like the face of a fish, with its protruding lower part, with its tiny little teeth, with its round eyes, with the gills by the ears... It was, as the Barbosas said, a man-fish.

Phillip stared at him, with the same dumb stare of fish. He saw the wound in Phillip's arm. An arm that ended in a clawed, webbed hand, but no less a hand for that...

He could not leave Phillip alone here. His presence would bring in gulls and other scavengers, who could pick his bones clean. He brushed off some small crabs that had begun to feast already.

He took him in his arms. The first problem was how to keep Phillip from asphyxiating. He had not plastic bags nor bottles in which to carry seawater. The best he could do was wrap seaweed over the neck, to let the dripping water keep the gills moist.

Collinwood had a swimming pool. It was empty - which was lucky since chlorine would kill Phillip if he was immersed in it. They could put him there, and over him with enough water and salt so that he would last the night, and by then he could come up with a better set-up. He would have to ask a favor of the environmental center - and they owed him at least one - and get a large enough aquarium to hold him comfortably.

Carolyn protested a bit, but when she saw the state that Phillip was in, gave him permission. Enough filtered water mixed with salt was thrown over his head to keep him breathing, while went for a big enough container to hold salt water. A few trips to the shore to refill the container, a few phone calls, and Phillip was set up for the rest of the night, while arrangements were made to get him in a more comfortable setting.

"It is going to be dawn soon." Carolyn told him. "I will take over for you now."

"Thanks." he kissed her. "I know that he is grateful to you."


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

"You feel better?" George asked Vicky.

"Yes." she was emotionally drained, but calm. "I know that Phillip is back, and that you may need my help.

Well, George thought. Barnabas had been right. The task of breaking the news was done, the shouting and crying was done, and he did not have to wait until Vicky was back to her rational self. he did not have to cope with her wailing and denying.. Barnabas had already done that.

"We have him." he braced himself because the news was not good, and she had to be ready for the worst. "We put him on an aquarium tank.. Something happened to him. He is now part man, part fish."

"Yes. Barnabas told me that. And I saw his arm." she shuddered. "It was him. He was looking for me, and I just ran away."

"I wonder how much he would have recognized you. The spell that was put on him did something to his brain, we think."

"A spell, like the ones that Angelique used to put? Like when she turned Joshua into a cat?"

"Someone with powers like Angelique's, yes. But not her." he hastened to add before Vicky started remembering all the grievances she had against Angelique. "We have no idea who it might have been, nor why Phillip was chosen. But we know that spells can be lifted."

"And what if they can't be lifted?"

"I don't know."

Vicky turned ashen. "So Phillip might have to spend the rest of his life in a fish tank."

George took a deep breath. "I know what you are feeling. Last year, when Barnabas was in the throes of this uncontrollable hunger, and we had to keep him locked up for safety reasons, I had to think of what would happen if we could not cure him. I had to face the possibility that he might. have to be killed. And I knew that if it came to pass I should be the one to kill him. I had plenty of time to consider it. We found a way and I am never enough grateful for that, yet I still think of it. Vicky, I do not know what we may have to do if we fail. But we do not intend to fail. We intend to have Phillip back as he was, so he can be with you and little Phillip."

"But how are you going to do it? Angelique is away. So is Nicholas. Who is there who'd know how to undo this?"

"You forget Old Munsungan, the Indian shaman. He has great powers."

"I heard that he is sick."

George had heard it too. The old shaman had begun to decline after dealing with Zoya Zalisky. He might well die soon. And then, what were they going to do?

"Then there is Julia. And there will be other ways. We just have to keep on trying. One way or the other we'll get Phillip out of that tank."

"And you need my help with that?"

"Yes."

"What do I have to do?"

* * *

Phillip lied in the tank, tubes digging into his mouth. Through them food and drugs were fed to him at regular intervals. He was weak, and needed not to exert himself, so as to allow his body the chance to recover. Also it was better that he did not test his strength against the walls of the tank, or the machine that kept the water well aerated.

Barnabas had wondered if that would be enough, but had had to admit that there was little else to do right now.. The bullet had been taken out of Phillip's arm, and the wound had been treated. He was in a safe place and been given the chance to recover. The rest, it was up to Phillip's body.

Julia studied him, wryly thinking that somehow, after so many years in Medicine, she had become a veterinarian... No, she must not think that way. Phillip was a man, and she should think of him that way.

Vicky approached the tank, not sure if she really wanted to see this, but knowing that she must.

She almost screamed when she saw him, Was that her husband? What had become of him? Could this have happened to him?"

"If you want to scream and rant, and rave, do it now" Julia said. "Better to get that done and out of the way while he does not know of it."

Vicky nodded. "What are you doing with him?"

"At the moment I am running tests. They will tell me what to do with him."

"It seems so hopeless..."

"Many things seemed hopeless before, yet we found a way. If there is a way to help him, we will find it."

"I know that you will try. It is just that it looks so.." she turned her face away. .."I never saw anything like it."

"Like I said, get all the crying and shouting and denying out of your system now. We do not need you calm and rational yet."

Vicky began to weep, "We had made so many plans... both of us. We were going to have three children. have a nice house in Collinpsort...And he could continue playing..."

"You will have all that. You can now afford the house. And will be playing jazz before you know it."

"We had right to some good luck. But we never got it. What we got is... this. We never ran out of bad luck. Maybe it is me. I bring bad luck."

George put her hand on his shoulder. "No, Vicky, that is not true... "

"Why not? I doomed Burke. I doomed Peter. Maybe I doomed Phillip too. I _am_ bad luck."

George shook her. "Stop it, Vicky. You want to think about it, do it outside. Here, we are trying to communicate with him."

"Communicate how?"

"He does not recognize me or Barnabas. But he might recognize you. Maybe through you he will be able to tell us what happened to him, and how it can be reversed."

There were tears in Vicky's eyes. She was not through weeping her. She had wept when she had lost Phillip, had wept until she accepted that he was lost to her. And now, seeing him like this, brought all that pain back.

"Why did this have to happen? Why?"

George shook his head, helpless.

"Who could be so vicious? Who would hate him so much as to do... this? And what I am going to tell my son? That he can come visit his daddy at the Aquarium, next to the shark tank?

* * *

Urien sat pensively by the sea, the book he was attempting to read abandoned in his lap.

He could not care for it. There was a worry gnawing at him that would not let go, no matter how he tried to forget it.

He still dreamed about Robert Loomis. It had not gone away as Julia had promised him. Yes, for a while it had grown weaker, but last night it had become strong again. Robert Loomis wanted him to listen. He had something important to tell, only he could not make out what it was.

Well, maybe it would go away again. He had been upset lately what with Barnabas and George making public their relationship... he was tired of answering every stupid question that came his way concerning the two of them. For some reason their dirty minds wanted to know whether he was a kept boy or not, and how did he fit in with the two of them.

Well, he should not be angry with Barnabas about that. Sooner or later George had to make it public, and he had no right to ask that George ran his life around his, Urien's, convenience. It was a rough time for everybody, and everybody had to shoulder his part of the burden.

He wondered if it would be possible to move somewhere else. After all, he wanted to go to college, and this was as good a chance as any. He knew why Barnabas did not want him to go, and why George agreed on it. But he could convince them that the street life he had left behind held no longer attraction to him.

In the meantime, he reminded himself that Barnabas was his father, and that it was his duty to stand by him.

And now... what was it that Robert Loomis was trying to tell him?

It did not matter. It was the hand of Petofi that had caused those dreams. They would go away.

And what if they did not?


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

There ought to be an easy way to kill someone, Roger thought. One that would put Carolyn in no danger. One that was foolproof.

A letter bomb was out. How could he be sure that it would be Adam who would open it? And Edmund was an added complication. Was there a poison that Edmund would not try sampling first? A booby trap that Edmund would not spring in his childish curiosity?

Murder is not an easy undertaking, Roger decided. It had to be carefully deliberated.

He could put the poison in Adam's studio. Paint the walls with some toxic powder.

But Adam was not the only one there. Edmund liked to come and look at the work that Adam did.

Poisoning the paints had shown promise, until he tried it. He had been able to open the tube and put the poison in. Only the color had changed... When Adam saw it, he threw it out, in disgust, and was gone with all the other trash...

What about poisoning Adam's clothes? No, he'd see the stains and take them to the dry cleaners. Not much future there. Poisoning his watch? Use radioactive paint on it?

It would be slow. He'd have to wait long for it, and by then they would be married... He wanted something that worked faster than that.

It would have been so much easier if Quentin had let Adam die of pneumonia in the woods...

Maybe he'd kill Quentin, too, for the principle of the thing.

All right, then how to kill Adam?

Maybe he could get a ring like the Borgias wore, which had a concealed needle which injected poison into those whose hands they shook. Now, where could rings like that be found?

They would never let him get one. It was bad enough trying to get a gun. Carolyn had passed out the word that while her uncle was to be treated with consideration, he should never be allowed access to a firearm.

There were other ways. Put gunpowder under his bed and blow him up. Had to make sure that Carolyn was not there, thought. Wire the lighting rod to his favorite chair or his easel and wait for a storm to electrocute him? Get a lion from the circus and set it loose? No, too ridiculous even for words.

Suppose that Adam's studio caught fire. A lot of the stuff painters worked with was flammable. They could easily believe it was an accident, that Adam had gotten careless. The studio was away from the main building. There would be little chance of the fire spreading to the main house.

But Edmund liked to go there...

* * *

Patterson wondered if he would ever see the jeweled egg again. He probably would not. Derek had decided to appropriate it for himself, and while he did not care that much for the fancy toy, he disliked being treated by a fool, as he was being treated by George Brant.

Yet Brant had the power. He would not after the election, when the voters decided that lavender was one shade that they did not like in a police uniform. But in the meantime, Brant had the power and would not hesitate to use it.

The memory of the jail cell came back to him, stinging him. How many times he had put people there, locking the door as he left? How many drunks had stayed there until they sobered up? How many of them and vomited and worse on the floor? And he had been locked in it...He had had to stay inside, unable to leave... As if he was no better than they were...

He would make Brant pay for it, one way or the other. He would find a way. He would find proof that Pearce was the thief and that Brant had covered it up. That he had been paid by Pearce to look the other way. He would have Brant behind bars, yet. There Brant could apply himself to make eyes to his cellmates.

But how to prove that Pearce had the egg? And worse, if he found proof of it, how to prove that Brant knew of it? Where was the egg, anyway? If he knew that, things would be easier.

Problem number one, find where the egg is. Problem number two, establish how it got there, and how many people were involved in it.

* * *

He had to go out. There was fury rising in him, after reading the newspaper. The murderous junta in Argentina had pardoned themselves for their crimes. If was as if Nixon, not Ford, had signed his own pardon before resigning office.

But they had done it for far worse crimes than Watergate.

He knew that he could not share his outrage with George. Because then it came back to Norma and Nunez, and how he had played God in there...

He had gotten Nunez, but the others remained untouched...

He prayed again for Norma, for her being able to find peace...

Well, he could not be sorry for what the had done to Nunez, since it meant that Julia did not have to mourn Richard,

But he could not discuss it with George. George had overlooked it, forgiven it, but on the condition that it was not talked about. It was a done thing. A messy end to what had been a messy situation. Not worth losing their love over it, but not to be praised or condoned either.

Still, the outrage was in him.

Fortunately he had grown wise enough not to get murderous. After so many years, so many times of being confined to his coffin, it had finally sunk in. He could not let other people suffer because he was out of sorts.

So he just waked about to clear his head, and to think of his own blessings, and why he should not jeopardize them because he was out of sorts.

It was then that he saw her, by Widow's Hill. Vicky,

He flew towards her, aware of what her thoughts might be. He should have flown to Josette, the thought, that long ago, not chased her. Well,, he knew better now.

He materialized next to her, and put his arms around her. "Do not do it, Vicky." he said

She did not seem surprised to see him there.

"Tell, me am I the one who causes this?" she asked. "all my men. Burke, Peter, Phillip. Am I the cause for their troubles?"

"No, Vicky, it is not you. Peter and you were just pawns in the Leviathan's game. Even if you had not loved each other, they would still have used both of you."

"And Burke..." she looked at him.. "Did you kill him because of me.?"

"No, Believe me, I did want to. I might have strangled him. But to tamper with a plane, terrified as I was of modern technology, that I'd never do. And then it was a local Brazilian flight. that went down.""

"But...but how..."

"I suspect that it had to do with Laura. You tangled with her, didn't you?"

"I stopped her from claiming David."

"I tangled with her. I saw the power she had over Dirk Wilkins. At one time she must have held the same power over Burke... In time, she might have turned him into a salamander... Vicky, think of it. It happened during daytime, high up in the air, where no clouds stood between the plane and the sun... It was Laura's master punishment for what was Burke's betrayal of his Mistress..."

"And he betrayed her because of me."

"Laura would have claimed him sooner or later. Because he had broken free of her, he was never enslaved.."

But he had not seen Burke when he had tangled with Laura, not as a salamander, not as one opposed to her...

"Still, it was because of me."

"Vicky, you are not the center of the Universe. Everything does not happen because of you."

"But Phillip..."

"Phillip will get better." He coxed her away from Widow's Hill. "I know, you think that if you jumped it would be better for everyone, didn't you?"

"I was tempted."

"It was here that Josette jumped because she could not bear what I had become. I had to live with it. Vicky, if you jump, and Philip gets better, do you now what it will do to him, to know that you killed yourself rather than look at him?""

She nodded reluctantly.

"You have a child. You have a business, you have your obligations. You cannot walk away from them this way."

"But Phillip..."

"Phillip will get better. We will find a solution. We always do."

* * *

Who did this to Phillip? Will they be able to restore him? How about the missing Faberge egg, which neither Derek nor Patterson have? What about Peter's visions? How will Roger try to kill Adam? Will he fail again or succeed?

Stay tuned.


End file.
